Fairy Tales

Fairy Tales.  The things we believe when we are young give us focus.  Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Toothy Fairy, the Boogyman.  We believe in these things so much they become true for us.  We see them, the evidence of them, they are real to the mind of a child.

As we reach adulthood we find other things to believe in, philosophies, religions, etc.  Basically we all need something to believe in.  I’ve become a bit of a nihilist, approaching solophistic actually.  Sometimes it is painful not to have something to belive in.  Watching everyone around you having faith in something.  If not faith, then hope.  In my opinion hope is a dangerous thing.  Something I’ve tried to do for the past few years is hope for nothing, expect the worst and then be pleasantly suprised if it doesn’t happen.

Sometimes I want to  believe in something, or at least pretend.  To live each day without hope, some might consider it to be very…emo.  That is not to say that I live each day with pessimism.  I live each day as anyone can, fully.  Being detached from everything gives a sense of control really.  Because we all know how hard it is to solve a problem from the inside, you are too close to it.  Simple as that.  Hope is dangerous, it brings dissapointment.  Which leads to bitterness and withdrawl.

Yet I cannot find myself at this time without hope, which upsets me.  I need not have hope, or dreams, or anything as such, I find them thrust upon me though.  Something I simulatenously want and dread.  Hope is not something I wish to have.  Ask those around me though, I am not dour or bitter, I am rather full of mirth usually.  And I feel as though finding something to believe will ruin that for me.  My dreams have always been dashed, either by myself or with some external help.  Not having those for the past two years has changed me.  I might say for the better.

As I’ve said though, I wish for a bogeyman.  Something to believe in, something to give myself attachment to the wide world of collective unconsiousness.  Sometimes I find myself outside of the world, looking in on it.  It’s rather frightening sometimes.  Yet I’ve found myself dreaming and desiring, hoping almost.  To what end?  There will be nothing good to come of it.  I try to force myself to stop, yet I desire connectivenss to the wider world.

Hence fairy tales.  Something to believe in that obviously isn’t true.  Something to pretend to believe in, to wish that fairies were real, or trolls, whatever your non-existent life form is, is that what I will do?  Is that more dangerous than hope?  I’ve noticed that out of all the material things I’ve desired in my youth now when there is no desire form them do I find them in my possesion.  Unfortunately that doesn’t matter.  Desire leads to pain, these material things I have, they are as water, flowing between fingers, not real.  As well they should be, mere amusement. 

The things I desire cannot be found, hence why hope is so dangerous.  To hope for impossible things is childish, much like fairies being real.  I do not hope for belief in anything as base as a creed or religion.  Honestly my dreams cannot be expressed in something as vulgar as words. 

Before the accusations fly, I am not depressed nor being overtly emo.  I am just feeling especially delicate right now, vulnerable even.  Something I’ve prided myself on not being in a very long time.  Yet with all of these sudden and new things happening around me I feel somewhat lost in a tide of change and uncertainy and need some anchor, which I will not find.